


ache in my chest

by soapyconnor



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Dick is a little OOC bc yknow shit is diff, Dunno what else to tag, M/M, OOC, brief sex scene, nix is an asshole, nix reported them to the MPs and regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: Nix knew he blew his chances.He had been too slow, not quick enough to express how he felt. He had been scared, too. What wasn’t there to be scared about? It was wrong, illegal, immoral. He never thought someone like Richard D. Winters would be that type of man.Course, Nix just had to be proved wrong.
Relationships: Ronald Speirs/Richard Winters, one-sided Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	ache in my chest

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in one afternoon in under like two hours, so sorry if its bad. i didnt proofread, and i kind of just wrote until i was done, rip.

Nix knew he blew his chances.

He had been too slow, not quick enough to express how he felt. He had been scared, too. What wasn’t there to be scared about? It was wrong, illegal, _immoral._ He never thought someone like Richard D. Winters would be that type of man.

Course, Nix just had to be proved wrong.

Dick had disappeared hours ago with Speirs, the two of them heading towards Dick’s quarters. Something about that the two of them needed a ‘long talk’, which had been confusing in and of itself. They were no longer at war; they were merely an occupying force until the army figured out what the fuck to do with them.

Nix had been enjoying himself, playing cards with Welsh and Lipton for a bit before Lip left to go check on the men. Nix liked Welsh well enough, but he missed Dick, so he excused himself and began to head towards where Dick was holed up, hoping that he would still be there.

He headed up the creaky wooden steps carefully, hand gripping the railing so he didn’t stumble and fall. Dick didn’t like it when he was drunk, much less when he was being a ‘messy’ drunk, so he was trying to act as sober as possible.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had just never cared what Dick thought about him.

Dick’s room was at the top of the staircase, and Nix stood there, swaying on his feet, pressing a hand against his forehead before he approached. It was then, while he was trying to get his bearings, he heard it.

“Oh, Dick . . .” he heard a soft moan, following by the sound of something slick. He would have been a fool to act like he didn’t know what that sound was.

Carefully, he stepped forward, pressing his back against the wall before he peaked in, a bolt of anger jerking through him as he heard a soft, “ _Ron_ ,” murmured in turn.

The sight had him clenching his fists.

There had been plenty of wet dreams that involved _Nix_ in Ron’s position, and he couldn’t ignore the jealousy that was building inside of him. So many times, had he dreamed of it, only to be hit with the startling realization that Dick Winters _wasn’t that type of man_.

But he was wrong, clearly, because there Dick was, his body covering Ron’s, their foreheads pressed together as he slowly rolled his hips into Speirs. Ron’s hands were buried in Dick’s hair, musing it as he flexed his fingers around the strands. Ron’s legs were wrapped around Dick’s hips, drawing him close. They were breathing each other’s air, their eyes closed, exchanging small kisses every so often.

It was painfully sweet, and everything Nix ever wanted with Dick. It _enraged_ him that Speirs, fucking cold-blooded, _murderous_ Speirs, got to hold him like that.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by Speirs gasping, his head tilting back and his body trembling. “Oh, God, Dick—”

“I’ve got you,” Dick whispered, sweetly, against his throat, “I’ve got you . . .”

Speirs was trembling, like he was going to come apart if he didn’t continue to hold onto Dick like he was his lifeline.

Nix grit his teeth, and forced himself to smooth his hands along his trousers.

He left the same way he came in, trying to block out the sounds of them coming together.

Nix got to be there when the MPs came.

Nix kept his distance from Speirs and Dick. If the two noticed, they didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even sure if they really _cared_. But he removed himself from their group, ignored their offers, and kept to himself. He drank a lot more, too—not wanting the guilt to eat away at him, even though it was mostly overpowered by the jealousy inside of him.

Nix was sitting with Welsh, sharing a smoke when the MPs approached Speirs and Dick. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the flash of fear across Dick’s face was enough to tell him all he needed to know. Speirs’ face was unreadable, like usual, but he put up no fuss. Dick looked nervous, but nonetheless kept his head held high.

“Hey!” Welsh shouted, drawing the attention of the other Easy men around them. Welsh slipped off of the half-wall next to Nix, and began to make his way over, other Easy men quickly joining.

Nix could see Dick talking, but couldn’t hear what was being said. He sucked on the end of his cig, and could feel himself slowly starting to glare at the back of Speirs’ head.

One of the MPs must’ve told them what they were being arrested for, and who reported them, as Nix was suddenly on the receiving end of many, _many_ stares. He didn’t react, just continued to smoke his cigarette and forced himself to meet Dick’s gaze. Dick looked so incredibly hurt, his blue eyes filled with pain, but Nix found it hard to care.

He watched as the two were led away by the MPs, and he slid off of the half-wall, heading back towards his quarters, ignoring the calls from the Easy men.

Speirs and Dick never came back.

It wouldn’t take long for Nix to regret his decision. Within days, he hated the fact that Dick wasn’t there. He would find himself turning to mention something to him, only to see the space next to him empty.

. . . Not to mention most, if not all, of the Easy men wouldn’t talk to him.

It was a couple of months after Speirs and Dick had been taken away when Nix finally had enough. He had enough points; he _could_ go home. He wasn’t needed there anymore.

So, he went home. Home to his empty house, devoid of everything he had once considered coming back too. He rarely got to see his son, and even buying another puppy didn’t fulfill him.

His life became an endless routine of going to work, coming home, taking care of the dog, repeat. He didn’t bother going on dates, didn’t bother arguing with his father or Kathy like he used to.

His dreams were plagued with thoughts of Dick. What happened to him? Was he all right? If he hadn’t been so selfish, he would still have Dick in his life.

Often, Nix drank himself to sleep.

In 1956, Nix found himself unable to deal with _not knowing_ any longer.

He bought a phonebook for Lancaster, and scoured the W’s for Dick. Irritated by a lack of success, he wracked his brain for the name of his parents. Luckily, they still lived in Lancaster.

He twirled the phone cord around his finger, listening to it ring, wondering what he would do if this was a dead end—

“Hello?”

Nix jerked as he heard the woman speak, and he found himself instantly relieved. “Ah—is this the Winters residence?”

“It is,” the woman responded. Shit, she sounded very similar to Dick. Same careful way of speaking, same gentle tone. “Who am I speaking too?”

“Ah, sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I’m one of Dick’s war buddies, and—”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice suddenly growing cold. “Dick died in the war.”

Nix’s teeth dug into his bottom lip, and cleared his throat. Well . . . he should’ve suspected this. It would have been hard for Dick to hide his discharge from his parents, and knowing the idiot, he probably would have told them, anyways.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Nix replied, clearing his throat once again. “I’ll . . . I’ll let you go.”

“Have a good day.”

She hung up on him, and Lewis stared at his phone, now at a loss of what to do. He wasn’t in contact with any other Easy member; they had pretty much cut him out when they had found out he was the reason why Speirs and Dick had been discharged.

He grit his teeth, and began to look through the phonebook again. He knew Dick had a sister. Perhaps she kept in contact?

That ended up being a dead end, too. The only Ann Winters in the phonebook got the same cold-tone to her voice when he asked after Dick.

He sighed, and hung up, scrubbing a hand across his face, trying to think of who would even _give_ him the information—

He paused, wondering if it would even be worth it, before he thought, ‘fuck it’, and began to dig through his contact book.

His hands were shaking a bit as he dialed the number. He wasn’t even sure if this number was _right_. In all these years, he had never used it, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had been given the wrong—

“Hello?”

Nix blinked, and froze. Fuck, he hadn’t expected this number to actually be _right_. He was sure it had been given to him out of pity, figuring that Nix would never call it. Nonetheless, the number had in fact been correct. “Hi, Carwood.”

A pause. “Nixon,” Carwood said, sounding unsure. “What . . . what do I owe the pleasure?”

Nix could tell he wasn’t happy to be speaking to him. Hell, he was sure if Carwood was a lesser man, he would have hung up already. “Ah . . . I was just—” Nix coughed, and itched at his throat. _Shit_ , this was a lot harder than he thought. “I. Well. I was wondering if—if you’ve kept in contact with Speirs. Or Dick.”

The pause on the other end was so long that Nix was _sure_ Carwood had hung up He was getting ready to just give up and put the phone back, but then came Carwood’s unsure response, “. . . Why are you asking?”

How did he explain the reason why he was asking? Fuck, he was the one who got them dishonorably discharged. He was the reason why they were struggling to keep jobs, struggling to even _get_ jobs, if they were still alive.

But he came this far. He might as well bite the bullet.

“I’m . . . Well, I need to talk to Dick.”

Another long pause. “I’m not sure if you would be exactly welcomed to have that talk, Nixon.”

Nix ran his teeth sharply over his bottom lip. “I figured as much. But I—” Nix closed his eyes. “I fucked up, Lip. I really did. I shouldn’t’ve—” He took a deep breath. “I regret what I did so bad. It’s been eating me alive. I just—even if he doesn’t forgive me, even if he slams the door in my face, I owe him an apology. I owe him—I owe him an explanation for what I did. He was my—”

He choked. “He was my best friend, and I fucking ruined his life, Lip.”

Lipton snorted in his ear. “You did more than ruin his life, Nixon.” A pause, then a soft sigh escaped Lip. “Look. I can’t promise you that he won’t turn you away or flee. But I can give you their current address. But if you fuck them over, or do anything untoward—”

“I just want to talk, Lip. I really do.”

He could practically see Lip crinkling his nose. “Fine. Got a pen ready?” Nix scrambled for his notepad, and grunted in affirmation. “It’s . . .”

Dick Winters and Ron Speirs currently were residing in a trailer park out in the middle of nowhere. Lip refused to tell them what they were doing there, and Nix didn’t even bother asking.

He was a little bitter at the fact that Dick and Speirs were still together, but he swallowed his anger. His jealousy wasn’t worth it.

When he reached the mobile home they were living in, he noticed that it was dark and empty. Figuring they were both at work, Nix could do nothing more than sit on the stoop and wait.

He thought a lot about what he was going to say, what he was going to do upon seeing Dick. Did he apologize? Did he wait for Dick to speak? Did he just turn around and go home, and forget about it?

Nix scrubbed his hands over his face, and took a deep breath. He owed the man an explanation, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

The sound of gravel crunching abruptly stopped, and Nix jerked his head up.

There he was. Standing about a good twenty feet away from him, was Dick Winters. He didn’t look the same as Nix remembered him; his face was scarred, he had lost weight, and his body was covered in oil and grime.

Despite all of this, the man still looked happy, even if the current aura around him screamed _tired_.

Dick blinked at him like he couldn’t believe what he saw. Quite frankly, Nix didn’t blame him.

Getting to his feet, Nix licked his lips, nervously. Dick broke out of his stupor, and quickly backed away. “Dick—”

“You need to leave,” Dick demanded, voice hard. “You’re not welcomed here.”

Heart aching, Nix tried again, “Dick, I just want to talk.”

Dick looked like he didn’t believe him, and Nix didn’t blame him. “Why?” Dick asked. “Why do you want to talk? After all these years, why now?”

Nix didn’t have an answer. What could he say? That his guilt was eating him alive, and that he desperately wanted to apologize for ruining his life?

Something on his face must have betrayed him, because Dick let out a sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose, before he began to approach Nix.

Nix scrambled to his feet, and watched Dick, carefully. The man did nothing besides just climb the staircase and unlock the mobile home, motioning for Nix to follow him.

The mobile home was . . . okay. The carpet was old, and missing in some places. The furniture, hell, _everything_ was old, second-hand. A dog approached Dick upon the door swinging shut, but Dick just grabbed him by the collar and put him outside with a small, “ _Get_.” A sphynx cat was curled up on the ratty couch, blinking tiredly at Dick and Nix, before putting its head down.

Dick didn’t offer him an explanation, just muttered, “Sit,” before he disappeared into the back bedroom.

Nix licked his lips, and sat down on the couch next to the cat. The cat stared at him, and let out a soft _mrrow_ , before getting up and leaving him.

The mobile home lacked any sort of feeling, and felt . . . empty. Lip did tell him that they had recently moved into this unit, and he flinched at the thought. It seemed like they were still living like they had in the army; only taking the necessities with them.

There was the sound of water running in the other room, and it wasn’t long before Dick reentered the room with a wet towel, gently wiping the grime off of his body.

He sat down in the chair furthest from the coach, and the cat quickly approached, leaping onto the arm, before sliding behind Dick.

“Who’s cat?” Nix croaked, blinking as his voice broke.

Dick glanced at the sphynx. “Ron’s.”

Nix clenched his jaw. “And the dog?” he asked, after taking a few, deep breaths.

“Also Ron’s.”

Nixon nodded, then looked down at the ground. It was then he realized that the carpet wasn’t _actually_ carpet; it was an old rug that had been used to cover the shitty hardwood floors. Neither spoke for the longest time, and Nix felt like it was choking him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally spluttered out, despite not knowing how much time had passed. Dick looked unsurprised. “I’m sorry, I—I shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t deserve that. I should’ve—” Nix broke off, averting his gaze again.

“You’re right,” Dick said, “You shouldn’t’ve. But you did.” _And now I’m living with the consequences,_ went unsaid.

“I really am sorry,” Lewis said, his voice cracking.

“What good do you think sorry is going to do now?”

Nix didn’t really know what to say. The truth was, sorry wasn’t going to do any good. Sorry wouldn’t have done any good back then, either. The only way that Nix could have fixed this whole situation was _not_ doing what he did. But he couldn’t fix it, couldn’t go back in time and prevent himself from doing it.

When he looked at Dick again, the man’s eyes were cold. “I don’t know, Dick,” Nix admitted, “I just need you to know I am sorry.”

Dick snorted. “Is this all you came here for? To tell me _sorry_?”

He looked down at his hands again, and shook his head. “I—well, I needed to see if you were alive. Everyone I called told me you were dead.”

Dick laughed, cold and angry. “You really thought that my _Quaker mother_ would keep her _faggot_ of a son?”

“I—” He broke off, and took a deep breath. “I didn’t think your mother would turn her back on you.”

Dick rolled his eyes. It was then that it clicked in Nix’s mind; Dick was not the man he had been all those years ago. He was hardened now by the life he had to live, the life that Nix had dropped him into with little to no remorse.

“What I want to know,” Dick said, “Is _why_. Why the hell did you do this to me, Nix?”

Nix flinched. “I—” He stopped. He didn’t know why he was so hesitant to tell Dick the truth; out of anyone, Dick would be the most understanding.

“How did you even know?” Dick continued, like Nix hadn’t even spoke. “We were careful.”

_That_ irked Nix. “You weren’t,” Nix snapped. “You really thought you were? You two were fucking with the door open to your quarters. Anyone could sneak up on you at any moment, and you left the door _open_.”

Dick’s face flushed. “We were an occupying force in Austria,” Dick retorted, “We were nothing more than glorified officers. _Nobody_ needed us for anything, and those stairs were so loud we would’ve heard someone coming.”

“Well, you didn’t hear me!” Nix huffed. “I got up all those stairs and you didn’t fucking hear me.” Dick’s face flushed. “My drunk ass was able to get up those ‘oh so loud’ stairs and was able to get a _perfect_ view of you fucking Ronald fucking Speirs in the ass.” Then, he sneered. “I never pictured Ron bending over and _taking it_.”

“Leave Ron out of this,” Dick demanded, his hands clenching over his dirty knees. Despite his best efforts to clean up, his hands were still incredibly dirty.

Tensing, Nix replied, “Fine, I’ll leave mister murderer out of this.”

“Oh, come off it!” Dick said. “You were never one to believe rumors.”

“Not a rumor when it’s true.”

“Like you were much better,” Dick said, “Mister ‘I’ve never fired my rifle’.”

Okay, that hurt a bit. His service was already put in question by his family quite frequently, he didn’t need it thrown in his face here, either.

“I want to know why you fucking reported us,” Dick said.

Nix’s heart fluttered. He hated the way Dick was looking at him; hated the way that Dick’s eyes burned with fury. “I reported you because I was jealous.”

Dick arched an eyebrow.

“I was jealous, I—” Nix cleared his throat. “I fucking wanted you for years and fucking _Speirs_ got you. That fucking robot got you before I even got a _chance_ —” He stopped, eyes going wide as he watched Dick snicker.

“There was no chance for you,” Dick said, voice cold. “Never. We were _friends_ , Nix. That’s all we were ever going to be.”

Nix knew this. Logically, he did. Looking back now, he saw the signs. Dick never quite looked at him the same way he looked at Ron.

“Can’t believe you,” Dick continued, “Fucking ruined mine and Ron’s life over a stupid _crush_.”

Nix’s face flushed. “I loved you, Dick,” he said, “More than I’ve ever loved anyone. I couldn’t—I was _angry_ because you chose Ron. You chose him over me. You chose him over someone who had been with you since the beginning.”

“It was never about how long we had known each other, Nixon,” Dick said, “It was about the way he made me feel. The way he treated me, the way he talked to me.” Dick’s jaw clenched. “The fact he wasn’t a fucking alcoholic.”

The cursing kept making Nix _flinch_. Dick had hardly ever cursed before. Hardly ever spit his words like the person he was talking too wasn’t worth his time. “I’m sorry,” was all Nix could say.

“I bet you are,” Dick said, “But that doesn’t change the fact that Ron and I will never be able to hold a job. It’s only a matter of time before this one finds our discharge papers.”

Nix’s chest ached, and he closed his eyes, burying his hands in his hair.

“Are you happy?” Nix managed to ask eventually, raising his head to look at Dick.

Dick’s jaw clenched. “Yes. He makes me very happy, Nixon. Happier than I thought I ever would be.”

He supposed it was a dumb question to ask. They had been together longer than Nix had ever been with _anyone_ , and they were being forced to live out of a mobile home, unable to stay in one place for too long.

The sphynx rose to its feet, leaping onto Dick’s shoulder and rubbing its head against Dick’s cheek. Outside, the dog began to bark, and there was a deep, rumbling answer. Dick looked to Nix. “I think you should go.”

Rising sluggishly to his feet, Nix nodded and began to head to the door, Dick following him. When he got to the door, he turned to look at his old friend, “I truly am sorry.”

Dick rolled his eyes again, the cat still perched on his shoulder.

Nix left, the door swinging loudly shut behind him, and came face to face with Speirs.

Speirs looked about the same as Dick, dirty and skinny, his hair longer than it had been in the war. Speirs straightened, and the dog next to him quieted.

“Nixon.”

“Speirs.”

Speirs’ eyes darted to the door, before looking back at him. Nix jerked his gaze away. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”

“Good.”

Nix approached his car, refusing to look at the former army captain. Speirs’ eyes bore into him as Nix climbed into the car. He didn’t bother to watch Nix drive away; instead, he whistled to the pup, and headed inside.

Nix sat in his car in front of the mobile home for a while, head pressed against the steering wheel. He took long, shaky breaths.

He knew, deep down, he shouldn’t have ever bothered.


End file.
